


Eskimo Kisses

by let_love_run_red



Category: Logan Lucky (2017)
Genre: F/M, TW: Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-06-02 21:45:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19450117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/let_love_run_red/pseuds/let_love_run_red





	Eskimo Kisses

Clyde ‘Oh you’re Jimmy’s brother?’ Logan, was sitting in the truck as they drove to the airport. He adjusted the helmet that sat on his head. Soon he would be home. Soon he would be known as Clyde ‘the one who went to Iraq’ Logan. He would no longer be in his brothers shadow.

Then there was the explosion.

He woke up to a ringing in his ears. He heard men yelling as he tried to stand. There was something on his left arm holding him down. He looked down to see his arm pinned under a mangled piece of metal that was once a part of the truck. He tried to move his left hand, only to feel himself fall limp again.

**That was a year ago.**

Clyde 'the one with the arm’ Logan stood up, he was considered one of the lucky ones. He’d gotten away with a broken collarbone, dislocated hip, and one and three quarters of his arms. He glared down at the stump of his left arm, still-healing scar tissue covering it and spider-webbing its way up what was left of his forearm. The angry white veins barely licked at the bottom of his bicep. He pulled on his prosthetic and stood from the bed. He looked at the slightly open drawer, seeing the corners of 'get well soon’ cards. He used his knee to push the drawer closed further and walked into the bathroom.

He pulled out the straight razor he used to shave his face, filling the sink with warm water and covering the edges of his jaw in shaving cream before he began shaving. When he was done he drained the sink and wiped the razor on his pajama pants. He looked down at the blade, seeing his reflection in the mirror surface. He hated the way he looked.

He looked in the mirror to see he’d nicked himself with the razor. There was a small cut on the edge of his jaw. He lifted the razor and held it next to his neck, wondering how it would feel. If it would hurt. He wondered if anybody would miss him. He lowered the blade. He wouldn’t be known as Clyde 'the coward’ Logan. He dropped the razor back into his bag before walking into his room and collapsing back onto his bed.

He tossed and turned, unable to relax. He couldn’t even sink back into the routine of self loathing he’d fallen into. He couldn’t stop thinking about what the bite of the blade would be like. What it would feel like to have blood dripping down his neck onto his chest. Who would care.

_One cut couldn’t hurt_

* * *

You pushed open the door to Clyde’s trailer, your arms full of grocery bags you set on the counter. You’d been worried about him lately, he had been quiet. Clyde Logan was always quiet but this was quieter. You’d taken to cooking him dinner once or twice a week, just to check in on him and make sure he was still breathing.

“Clyde?” You called into the seemingly empty trailer. His car was parked outside so he had to be home. You heard a choked sob come from his room and you quickly dropped your keys onto the table as you pushed open the door, calling his name again. You heard something metal collide with tile and pushed open the door to see Clyde curled up in the corner of the bathroom with blood covering his chest and thighs.

“Oh my God,” You breathed. Clyde looked up, tears covering his cheek and dripping onto his bare chest, mixing with the blood and making it run further down his chest. You bolted from the bathroom into the kitchen, grabbing as many hand towels as you could find and soaking them with warm water.

You ran back to the bathroom and used one of the towels to wipe the blood from Clyde’s body to see where the cuts were. He had several marring his chest, his thighs, and left bicep. You used the towels to cover the more shallow cuts on his thighs and arm, using all your strength to apply pressure to the deeper ones on his chest. Clyde tried to push you off of him as tears continued streaming down his cheeks.

“(y/n), stop. Stop trying to help me.” Clyde pleaded in a broken voice. You didn’t respond, just kept pushing on his chest to stop the bleeding. Clyde finally stopped fighting you as you settled onto your knees next to him. The next thing you knew Clyde was leaning into your chest, sobbing into your shirt and gripping onto the loose fabric as tight as he could. You ran your hand over his curly black hair, tucking it behind his ears and soothing him as best you could while making sure his chest stopped bleeding.

Once his cuts had stopped bleeding you managed to convince him to stand, leading him to the kitchen and having him sit on one of the chairs. You rummaged through his cupboard to find his first aid kit. When you finally did you pulled out a roll of gauze and another of medical tape. You found where he kept the scissors and walked towards where he sat. You set the supplies on the table and went about bandaging him.

“(y/n) stop.” Clyde said, pushing your hands away from him. You brushed it off and started trying to bandage his chest. He pushed you back rather harshly and growled. You took a step toward him and he snapped at you.

“(y/n) stop! I don’t deserve it! I don’t deserve to have someone care about me. I don’t deserve life.” He muttered the last part quietly. You stepped forward and held his head in your hands, brushing your thumb over his cheek. You lifted his head so he had to look into your (e/c) eyes. He finally saw the tears you’d been holding back as they started dripping down your cheeks.

“Clyde Logan, Don’t say that. Don’t you dare.” You said sternly. You finished bandaging the rest of his cuts before putting away the medical supplies and walking back over to him. You lifted his head again, supporting his chin with one hand while running the other over his hair, tucking it behind his ears.

“You deserve the world.” You said. His shoulders shook as another sob tore through his body. You pulled him against you and he buried his face into your neck, using his right arm to squeeze you tight. You gently rested your hand on his left elbow and guided his arm so it wrapped around you. He let out a fresh sob and leaned further into you as you ran your fingers through his hair, pressing your lips to his temple.

* * *

Clyde 'the one with the kid’ Logan had managed to squish himself under the bed you two shared alongside his six year old daughter (y/d/n). She let out a laugh, looking at her father. He gave her a smile and brushed her thick black locks out of her large (e/c) doe eyes. She giggled and he shushed her gently as he heard the door open.

“Clyde?” You called, walking into the trailer you shared with your husband. You heard a quiet 'shh’ followed by a soft giggle. You looked around for your daughter, only to have she and Clyde burst out from your room. Clyde was holding her above his head only to drop her into your arms. You quickly dropped your purse and caught her with a laugh.

Clyde whirled around and picked you up, spinning you around with a wide smile and a laugh. You continued laughing as he set you down on the table, leaning in to give you as kiss as your daughter squirmed from your arms.

“Ew daddy! I thought we were just going to scare her!” (y/d/n) squealed. She jumped out of your arms and slid off the table onto the floor, running to her room. She was likely in search of the kitten you and Clyde had brought home two months ago.

“Welcome home darlin’.” Clyde whispered into your ear, nuzzling his large nose into your neck while his arms were wrapped tightly around your middle. You ran your fingers through Clyde’s hair before pulling his head away from your neck and kissing the bridge of his nose.

It had been seven years since that day you’d found Clyde Logan curled into the corner of his bathroom. The scars had faded and, over the years, been replaced by love bites from you, covered with paint from your daughter, and grease from his car. They’d never disappear completely, but he’d learned to accept them. They were a reminder that someone cared about him.

“How was she?” You asked as you slid off the table, walking to the fridge and pulling out the ingredients you needed for dinner. Clyde stood behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, swaying you gently from side to side as he hummed a song into your ear.

“She was an angel, as usual.” He said. You looked down to see his prosthetic forearm covered in paint. You could see his gentle brush strokes alongside the clumsier ones of his daughters. She’d painted a sun to shine on the forest her father had painted, and animals to live in it. You let a smile cross your features. You remembered the first time you’d held your daughter in your arms. You had looked up to see Clyde looking at her with nothing but love, reaching his right hand out and brushing the tuft of black hair on her head. She was so small compared to him.

You’d offered to Clyde and he looked almost startled that you’d even suggest the idea of him holding something as tiny and precious as she was. But you had insisted. He’d gingerly taken her, balancing her in the crook of his right elbow, lifting her closer to his face so he could brush his large nose against her smaller button one.

Tears had started dripping from his eyes, one landing on your daughter’s cheek. She flinched and wrinkled her nose. Clyde had quickly shifted her to his other arm, using his calloused pinkie to brush the tear off her cheek. She reached up and took hold of his pinkie in her tiny fist, squeezing it as a tiny smile crossed her face.

“She’s ours.” Clyde had whispered. You reached up and rested your hand on his elbow. He looked down at you with a wide smile and shining eyes. You’d scooted as far over as you could in the hospital bed, inviting him to sit next to you. He had and had leaned down so you could see your daughter in his arms.

(y/d/n) ran back into the room with the kitten in her grip. The patient creature was nestled on its back into the crook of her arms. (y/d/n) had tied a large ribbon around the kittens neck and had it in a bow. She walked over to you and Clyde and held the kitten up to you.

“Mommy, Daddy, I made her pretty.” She said. You gently reached down and took the kitten, slyly making sure the bow wasn’t too tight, before tickling under the animal’s chin and setting her on the ground.

“She’s very pretty sunshine.” Clyde said, bending down and picking up his daughter. He tossed her into the air, catching her and bringing her face close to his, puffing out his cheeks before blowing a raspberry at her. She giggled and began squirming in his grip.

“Daddy put me down!” She laughed. Clyde smiled widely at her, spinning around and pretending to almost drop her. She laughed hysterically before Clyde lifted her to his face.

“You know the rules sunshine.” He teased. (y/d/n) continued squirming in protest while giggling.

“Daddy I’m too old for that!” She said with a wide smile. You watched the two with a content grin.

“Then I guess you’re too old for the floor.” Clyde said, rotating his grip on her so he had his right arm wrapped around her waist as she hung upside down. (y/d/n) squealed and Clyde flipped her back upright.

“Ok ok,” She leaned in and rubbed her nose against Clyde’s. “eskimo kiss, can I get down now Daddy?” She asked with a smile. Clyde gently set her on the floor and she ran off with a laugh, chasing after the kitten.

This was your family. Your family of scar covered bodies, your family of paint covered arms, your family of Eskimo kisses.


End file.
